Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!
Look to this Day! For it is Life,
The very read more

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!
Look to this Day! For it is Life,
The very Life of Life.
In its brief course lie all the Varieties
And Realities of your Existence;
The Bliss of Growth,
The Glory of Action,
The Splendor of Beauty;
For Yesterday is but a Dream,
And Tomorrow is only a Vision;
But Today well lived
Makes every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,
And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.
Look well therefore to this Day!
Such is the Salutation of Dawn.

Someday is not a day of the week.

Someday is not a day of the week.

If you don't think every day is a good day, just try missing one.

If you don't think every day is a good day, just try missing one.

My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent
without hope.

My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent
without hope.

From fibers of pain and hope and trouble
And toil and happiness,--one by one,--
Twisted together, or read more

From fibers of pain and hope and trouble
And toil and happiness,--one by one,--
Twisted together, or single or double,
The varying thread of our life is spun.
Hope shall cheer though the chain be galling;
Light shall come though the gloom be falling;
Faith will list for the Master calling
Our hearts to his rest,--when the day is done.

Days that need borrow
No part of their good morrow,
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.

Days that need borrow
No part of their good morrow,
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.

For, he that expects nothing shall not be disappointed, but he that expects much - if he lives and uses read more

For, he that expects nothing shall not be disappointed, but he that expects much - if he lives and uses that in hand day by day - shall be full to running over.

Daughter of Time, the hypocrite Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an read more

Daughter of Time, the hypocrite Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands;
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdom, stars, and sky that holds them all;
I, in my pleached garden watched the pomp
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I too late
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.

Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead.

Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead.